The Lions' Den: 22nd Hunger Games
by Cymria.2.0
Summary: "There is a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted." [Ecclesiastes 3:2] A memoir of the toilsome biblical Hunger Games. -SYOT OPEN-
1. Genesis - In the Beginning

_**"...And He endures forever; His kingdom will not be destroyed." (Daniel**_**_ 6:26)_**

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><p><strong><em>(Cymria.2.0) Chapter One - Genesis<em>  
><strong>

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><p>As Dannika waltzed into the meeting, she had an unusual air about her. One of pure joy and excitement. "I have stumbled upon a new arena idea," she started. The echo of her words was a powerful boom around the room in which she walked. Loud. It claimed the attention; all the starving, hungry eyes, like the scream of a tribute's desperate, bleeding bellow. The woman was like gold. A remarkable shade of auric shone with her movements, characteristic of a lioness prancing, pouncing with esteem. She had a mane of hair that surrounded her face and black whiskers that gleamed and glisten in the artificial light. A regal air swam about her - was infused in the steps she took; in the breaths her lips uttered.<p>

"Ask me about what I have to say." It was a demand. She was a kind, strong lady, and her arms lifted above her, the muscles in them straight and defined as they raised in a rainbow over her mane.

A man was balding at the front of the room. Pink flesh glistened atop his head where hair should have been, but had, many years ago, seems to crawl away. He didn't appear to be younger than 50. "Go ahead," he responded, and he waved a hand at the royalty who led the meeting. The dismissive wave of his arm was coupled with a nod that gave her permission. As if she needed it.

Dannika smiled softly past that. There wasn't a need to get the man executed over it. Meetings were always a thing her father, the President, felt that he needed to oversee. "I've acquired..." The words were led in her throat. Behind her pack, in glistening paws, was a leather-bound book with words etched in gold print into the cover. Confidence met her when she thought about it. Suddenly, doing this was easy. "I have acquired a tome from 13's ruins. In it are very many stories." Fairytales. She almost said 'fairytales', and momentarily , she didn't know what to think of it.

Toward the back of the meeting room, she saw a small, stubby hand reach toward the gilded ceiling. She ignored it. "And - and _one_ of these _stories -_" she brought the book into the view of the room and held it next to her cheek while her other index finger pointed at its lettering - "contains the trials of a young man named Daniel. He was put into a cave of lions." The excitement that reached into her voice was nearly foreign. It bubbled into her chest.

A short woman near the back of the meeting wore glasses. She peered at the old book, her interruption unusual, as normally none of the other interns ever would decide to speak their minds before the entire meeting. She vocalized her concerns, and her weak voice nearly caught Dannika off-guard. Dannika took a small breath as the young intern spoke. "What... what does this have to do with us _all_?"

It made Dannika's bright smile gleam stronger. She stood straighter. The knots were removed from her spine, and it felt like for an _instant_, she could speak again. Her teeth shone like a dangerous vice. "I am the lion... and this is my den."

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><p><strong>106/14: (Frank.2.0) -_** This is a repost. The last version had too few submissions, and so we've decided to do something to abridge the list and to do some editing of the characters we've accepted. Yes, that means that if you made it into the original, your tribute is still a part of this. Up to two tributes can make it inside this time. T**_**_**o quote my sister from the beginning, "This is not a religious-only zone, but it is a respect-only zone. ... T**__**his story is not meant to offend anyone in any way - we just figured that a Biblical SYOT would be cool. Any faith or lack thereof will be accepted. Even in the application, there are spots where you can specify your personal preferences." Best of luck to everyone.**_

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><p><strong>DISTRICT 1<strong>

Male - Nabal Davis (18)

Female - Angela Axlin (17)

**DISTRICT 2**

Male - Aeron Yaldabaoth (17)

Female - Lydia Pontius (18)

**DISTRICT 4**

Male - _**RESERVED**_

Female -

**DISTRICT 7**

Male - Bartholomew 'Mew' Gleason (12)

Female - Liliyth Akatsuki (16)

**DISTRICT 8**

Male - Jonah Abagnale (15)

Female -

**DISTRICT 10  
><strong>

Male - Judas Ivanez (18)

Female -

**DISTRICT 11**

Male - Jethro (16)

Female - Eve Adams (17)

**DISTRICT 12**

Male - Levitation Calypso (17)

Female -**  
><strong>


	2. Genesis - Dark Upon the Face of the Deep

**_"A stone was brought and placed over the mouth of the den, and the king sealed it..." (Daniel 6:17)  
><em>**

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><p><strong><em>(Frank.2.0) Chapter Two - Genesis Contd.<em>**

_**Unknown Female, Dist. 13**_

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><p>A brief fear held her breath in shudders. Sputters of hot air shook from her lips which trembled, red and as cold as the quivering soul her chest held shakily together. Both hands shook tremulously and burnt hotter than fire. She scraped uselessly at her face. Nails dug at the flesh and ripped scrapes of supple, pale, thick skin with puddles of blood sliding from the dark meat inside. The pain was untouchable. Ripples of intense emotion wove through each of her nerves, and twitches shook like earthquakes through her sore and aching figure.<p>

Her hands both feverishly scraped. They couldn't stop - no matter what e_lse_ she did, she _couldn't_ let them stop. She would _die;_ she would _die,_ and boiling pools of dark blood continued soaking her blue cloak. Streaks of scarlet ran races over the paleness of her arms as she constantly _tore_. The figure came rapidly. White and searing, like a burning shadow through the crippling black fear. Her hands were held in vices, and the pain seemed to ache even harder now. Words were being jumbled and thrown at her relentlessly, and her head shook. Burning, painful, throbbing sensations etched thick regret into her wrists. Her neck twitched uncontrollably; bobbed. Her teeth snarled at the thing because_ 'no matter what she did'_ -

It was like it was all too late. It all had her pinned. She didn't know what it was. It could have been life - its heaving, painful, throbbing weight. She was aware of the way it hurled on top of her and screeched roars into her mind, and _everything_... _hurt._ Her thoughts weren't thoughts. She listened to them screaming at her. Shrill. The ghost atop her thrashed and attacked and her teeth couldn't halt in the manner in which they...  
><strong><em><br>_**_Bit__ down._

It was attacking her - it had her; it had her. She couldn't construe in that moment if it were _da__ngerous_. It possessed her small frame. And like a demon - like a - like a...

It stood and clawed holes into her gaping chest with talons, and the pain was still untouchable. Atop her, it just felt like ice. She lay hopeless in an ocean of her own fluids. In every vein, she could feel the life... drain.

Her Bible was laying beside her. It was drenched in a thick puddle of muddled blood.

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><p><strong>106/14: (Frank.2.0) -_ Still one of the old chapters. Once the submissions roll in more, we'll begin conjuring new ones. _**


	3. Genesis: The Brokenhearted - Abomination

**_"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:3)_**

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><p><span><strong><em>(Frank.2.0) Chapter Three - Genesis Contd.<em>**

_**Dannika Snow, Capitol**_

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><p>She washed it. Steam rose in gentle gray tendrils from the titanium sink, her diamond ring of marriage lying carefully on her windowsill. Past the barrier of glass, not a single fingerprint could muddy the Capitol skyline. The world was vast; alive beneath her feet.<p>

A washrag made smears in the dried blood that gave the mysterious book its second coat. Cleansing it, a pinkish scarlet was soaked into the towel. A smile glistened softly over Dannika's face. Her memories drew her back into the moment. Rubble and dust was smeared like mud into the girl's blood. She had been badly beaten in a room in Thirteen. One of the nuclear facilities. It had been a search and recover mission. She picked up the old tome in shivering hands, eyes gleaming with delight - a sort of curiosity. She thought the origin of the book might have been a recent war.

All she knew now was that it was cloaked in blood. Its brown cover and the gold letters that were on it were a thing she couldn't comprehend without scrubbing it herself. Just beneath her nose, the Capitol was breathing to life behind the landscape of a gold and foggy dawn as numbers on an analog clock proclaimed 6:29 AM. She was never free on Tuesdays. Too many meetings; too many frivolous parades.

The vague idea of her grandfather's ailment was attacking her. Burdens of the mind slipped without a sound into her heart. They seemed black; aching. As the letters on the book's brown surface shone with golden glimmers, these pains struck a chord of silent, hurting sadness. The message became clear. Her sigh rose steam from the warmth of the cloth she held in her hand. The brightening sun brought along a wisp of hope that seemed to want to mend that feeling.

'Holy Bible' - and as her eyes dragged their weight over the cover of the book, she felt her mind scrape for the meaning of the second word. Bible. She tried it on her tongue. It poured over the surface like molasses and drooled its way past the lips in sort of a murmur. She liked the way it felt. Tried it again. Something light and feathery probed at the surface of the sadness she'd felt. The pages she flipped were dipped in a certain scarlet and stuck like glue together.

It was a good thing she didn't have to strain her eyes too much - too painfully - to look past that fact. It had a scent that was vaguely like the metallic fluid that'd been spilt upon it. Another half of it was an old smell like dust. Like dirt - like... history.

There was a man named Jeremiah, and oh, my, how she liked that name. It brought a smile to the crease of her lips - one that didn't ever seem that it would quite stop growing. Her mouth was plump and pale and un-made-up. She let her eyes flick to the sky and the orange that covered it. Sitting on a chair seemed like a pleasing idea right about now. When she did, it took the stress off of her back. Widened the image of her bright-colored teeth and peeled the lips farther from around them. She was _grinning_ now. Smiling genuinely, and now it was difficult to remember, for a moment, that she'd ever felt melancholy at all.

The book peeled open readily beneath her fingers. Page one - chapter one -_ book one. _That was an eyebrow-raiser. Her regal light brown brown curved into an upside-down 'u' above her left eye. Her smile faded into determination. Contentment. She wanted to know, for the slightest of seconds, what she was getting into.

The very first page of the Bible announced 'Genesis'.

And she tried the word once more on her tongue.

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><p><strong><em>"... At the temple, he will create an abomination that causes desolation until the end that is decreed ..." (Daniel 9:27)<em>**

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><p><em>(Cymria.2.0)<em>

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><p>Days had passed. The book was tucked far in the bottom of her purse, hidden beneath deep mounds of note pamphlets and run-out, drying pens she'd never need. She sank into the doctors' chair and awaited the man's arrival. Her husband had gone. Too many meetings. Too many occasions to attend.<p>

Her entire muscular frame lightly trembled beneath the heat and the weight of the burning thoughts. Her stomach was heavy beneath her aching fingers' touch. The apprehension stung her. Drained her of the little piece of energy she required to keep her eyes wide open, and contemplation ran races within the barriers of her mind. 'What do I name it?'

Her thoughts traveled back to the Bible contained in her handbag. The stories had continued to plague her mind from the ancient publication - were the contents of the book factual or just a bunch of fairy tales? However such thoughts rapidly escaped her mind when Dr. Flackner arrived.

Dr. Flackner was a very interesting individual. He had chocolate brown skin that matched his hazel eyes perfectly, however this is where his beauty grew. His buzz-cut hair framed his square head in an attempt to make his face appear larger than it was normally. He had a very long yet flat nose and plump lips. He was also muscular enough to have been some kind of athlete if he wanted to be, however he had decided medicine was his passion so this was what he did.

Nonetheless, Dr. Flackner was the nicest doctor Dannika had ever been given. He always handled her with grace and compassion, a trait he only shared with her husband. "Mrs Snow..." he began. His voice felt like damp molasses rising above the walls of the room and choking her of her breaths. Purging her skull of its every danging, trickling thought. "You have a son now."

It was a thing she wasn't quite capable of processing. The bible was still sitting in the back of her mind like a sore - a plague. Her husband had requested the child be named Jeremiah if, indeed, it had actually been a boy, unlike what they'd planned for. The room was covered in all pink, the trim about its edges golden, and even with the velvet inflects in the metal etched in peach. Girlish. And they had prepared... wrong?

Questions charged her like rusty trains on bent and twisted metal tracks. Second thoughts. Doubts. The baby boy wouldn't be named after the tome in her bag, and actually, from point one, that idea had been poor.

So her voice cut into the air, the word that rolled over her tongue slicing like a dagger into the pink meat of her thickening tongue. It was unlike 'Genesis' or 'Bible'. It didn't bring a softness to her heat, but something like a wall of glass. Something entrapping that closed in on every inch of her frame. Her flesh was jumping now, and every plucked nerve was sensitive to each subtle movement the doctor in front of her made.

She declared something that she was born to regret. Something about as shaky as a toy boat in the mouth of an ocean storm. "Coriolanus. Coriolanus Snow." 

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><p><strong>117/14: (Frank.2.0) - In response to President Snowflake, thank you so much. These chapters are a little old, and after this, if we're still having to do prologues, they will be much better. Thanks again. 'Wow' to you, too!**


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